Quiet Fury
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: Kite is not content with losing -- at least not without getting something from Atobe, too. An Atobe birthday fic. Shounen ai KiteAtobe.


Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: One of the six 1,004 word fics I wrote for Atobe's birthday, which is today.

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Quiet Fury

Falling down to his knees as the final score was announced, Atobe panted, worn and tired. He wasn't as absolutely exhausted as he had been after his match with Echizen, but he had certainly used up most of his energy. The opponent had been skilled, very much so; he wasn't proud enough to admit that.

Raising his head to look his opponent in the eye, Atobe smirked a bit. "That was a good match," he said truthfully. "I… enjoyed myself."

He got no answer aside from a slight glare. Even as he walked up to the net to shake the other's hand, there was nothing but a slight nod. Tossing his head just a bit, Atobe flung the sweaty locks of hair off his face, feeling extremely satisfied with himself. Why shouldn't he have? After all, he had won.

The lack of comment after the match was the reason he was so surprised to find himself cornered some time later. There wasn't anyone else around; everybody was too busy watching the next match. Atobe himself had gone off on a walk to cool down a bit; he would have preferred running, but the match had worn him out – the sign of an accomplished opponent. An opponent who, suddenly walking up to him, promptly grasped on his wrist and practically threw him against the nearby wall.

"…Kite." Atobe glared at his opponent. "What's the meaning of this?"

For a moment Kite was as quiet as before, simply staring down at him. Atobe answered in kind. To him, it was no feat to look down at someone taller than himself, and anyone who saw it their right to assault him deserved nothing but to be looked down on.

The position was far from comfortable; Kite's proximity forced him right against the rough wall, and his wrist being held tightly against it above his head hardly made his position any more tolerable. However, it would have been quite beneath him to start mindlessly struggling. Not even Kite would do something like this without a reason, surely.

Just as he was about to question Kite again, he got his answer, delivered in a low, angry tone that was far from the calm and controlled one Kite had used in their briefly exchanged taunts before the match.

"You think you indeed are a king, don't you?" asked Kite, leaning so close Atobe could feel his breath on his skin, a hot caress against his face. "Just because you were born wealthy, you set yourself above everyone else. Just because you're pretty and skilled, you think you can act however you want."

"What the…" Now, Atobe was truly just staring in disbelief. "What on Earth are you talking about?" True, he did hold himself more important than most people, but exactly what had set Kite off like this?

"Nobody else's opinions matter to you." Kite was even closer now, eyes glinting dangerously behind his glasses. His grip on Atobe's wrist tightened, drawing an involuntary gasp from him. A smirk flashed across the dark face before Kite went on. "Just because you won, you think you are better than me."

"I respect a good opponent," Atobe replied as calmly as he could. Whatever had made Kite like this, Atobe wasn't going to play along. He had more class than that. "You are one of the best opponents I've faced in quite a while."

"Am I, now?" The smirk was almost predatory now. "Even though I got your oh-so-pretty face all sweaty and flushed?"

"Please, Kite." Atobe sighed. "This kind of behaviour is quite beneath you. I was under the impression that for all your ruthlessness, you are ultimately in control of yourself."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Was it even possible for Kite to get even closer? "We're similar, aren't we, you and I. You may not like it, but it's true. We see the opponent's weakness and exploit it, even if we must risk bringing harm to them."

"Don't compare ore-sama with the likes of you." Atobe glared at Kite in quiet anger. "At least I do not bring harm to anyone outside the courts."

"Really, now?" The hold on his wrist tightened once again, and this time Atobe couldn't help but grimace in pain.

"Let go of me," he hissed through clenched teeth, giving Kite his most icy gaze. "This. Damn. Second."

"Oh. Swearing now, are we?" What exactly was Kite's finger doing running along his jaw line? "I'm glad to see I've made such an… impression… on you."

"Kite…" He was seconds away from calling out to Kabaji. And he knew Kabaji would hear, and arrive. Kabaji always did.

However, he never had time to carry out this plan. For a moment Kite was far too close, and then he was even closer, his mouth pressed against Atobe's. Making full use of Atobe's mouth being partially open, prepared to shout, Kite hesitated little before slipping his tongue inside.

For a moment Atobe was too stunned to do much of anything. Finally, though, he gathered the strength to push Kite away quite violently. The other captain stepped back, letting go of Atobe's wrist.

"What the Hell, Kite?" Atobe spat, his eyes blazing with fury instead of their usual ice. "What was that about?"

"Just wanted to see whether your lips were as cold as your eyes." The smirk was truly infuriating, now. For some reason, Kite seemed much calmer than before; Atobe himself was feeling quite the opposite effect. "You never even noticed, did you? You're so used to being watched that one pair of eyes more or less would mean nothing to you."

"You…" For perhaps the first time in his life, Atobe found no words, simply staring.

"Ah, well. I guess I'll just have to be satisfied that I managed to make you… flushed and sweaty." Kite stepped closer, one more time, murmuring a, "You're too pretty for your own good," before turning around and walking away.

Atobe was left leaning against the wall, shaking.


End file.
